


just one hit (I know I'll never, ever be the same)

by Preach



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alpha T'Challa (Marvel), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Cousin Incest, Drama, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Erik Killmonger, Online Dating, Praise Kink, dating apps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-05-26 23:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Preach/pseuds/Preach
Summary: The fun of heat sex couldn't make up for the emotional vulnerability that came with his heats. Being an omega was just the worst.Thank God for heat dating apps.Erik could spend each of his heats - his most humiliatingly vulnerable moments - with a different stranger each time, and then never, ever see them again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Galaxiaa7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaxiaa7/gifts).
  * Inspired by [can't turn off what turns me on](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14925449) by [audreyii_fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyii_fic/pseuds/audreyii_fic). 



> This is for my beta Galaxiaa7! Thanks so much for your support and encouragement :)

Erik mentally groaned as he spotted the telltale smear of creamy slick in his underwear. 

He was going into heat again.  

Regular as clockwork, once every six months, Erik's damnable omega body would inevitably begin making preparations for him to be bred full of cubs that he adamantly  _did not want._

The physical changes he could deal with. Most of them were annoying, but largely bearable.

The widening of his hips was the best part. Easy enough to deal with by buying pants an extra size up, and he loved the way his ass filled out, becoming even more firm, round and perky. 

The production of slick - slick that stained and ruined his favourite underwear - was slightly more troublesome, but all it entailed was doing an extra load of laundry in the days leading up to his heat. (Triumph had recently begun making slick-proof underwear especially for omegas, but they were all dainty, feminine little lacey panties that Erik wouldn't be caught dead wearing.) 

The production of pheromones - pheromones that turned the head of every unbonded alpha in his vicinity - was definitely worse. MIT had very strict rules against sexual harassment, but that still didn't stop most alphas from staring at him. (After all, it wasn't against the rules to  _look.)_

But worst of all was the hormone-fuelled urge to seek out an unbonded alpha and beg to be fucked. Worse than that, to beg for his alpha's care, comfort and protection. 

Even the fun of heat sex couldn't make up for the emotional vulnerability that came with his heats. Being an omega was just the worst. 

Thank God for heat dating apps.

Erik could spend each of his heats - his most humiliatingly vulnerable moments - with a different stranger each time, and then never, ever see them again. 

Erik wrote an email to his academic adviser to request the next three days off on heat leave, and then opened up his OACupid app and reactivated his profile.  

* * *

  

> Profile 
> 
> **Name** : E Seven
> 
> **Age** : 19
> 
> **Sex** : Male
> 
> **Location** : Boston (near MIT) 
> 
> **Presentation** : Omega
> 
> **Seeking** : Alpha Men
> 
> **Description** : want alpha m dtf 2 or 3 days. heat fuck ONLY no strings attached. hotel or motel (ur paying) 

Erik's profile picture was a slightly out of focus photo of himself with sunglasses on. Probably recognizable to anyone who already knew him in person, but hopefully anonymous enough to give him plausible deniability if pressed.  

Holding in a breath, Erik selected the dropdown status of  _Imminent Heat_ and braced himself for the forthcoming deluge. 

Sure enough, the notifications came flooding in almost immediately.     

> **\- Notification: 10 people swiped right! *heart with arrow emoji***
> 
> **\- Notification: You've got mail! (8 unread messages, 8 senders)**
> 
> \- PM Alert: *Photo attached*
> 
> \- PM Alert: Your hot !!
> 
> - PM Alert: pm me ur hole
> 
> \- PM Alert: I love you baby girl
> 
> \- PM Alert: Ffuck you
> 
> \- PM Alert: *Photo attached* 
> 
> \- PM Alert: Want To Fuck??1
> 
> \- PM Alert: *Photo attached* 
> 
> **\- Notification: 20 people swiped right! *heart with arrow emoji***
> 
> **- Notification: 25 people swiped right! *heart with arrow emoji***
> 
> \- PM Alert: *eggplant emoji*
> 
> \- PM Alert: ill fuck u slut
> 
> **\- Notification: You've got mail! (18 unread messages, 17 senders)**
> 
> \- PM Alert: Fuck Baby lt me fuck you hard,, Omega!
> 
> \- PM Alert: 宝贝，我可把你操得爽！
> 
> \- PM Alert: PLEASE RESPOND! Hello!! 
> 
> \- PM Alert: *Photo attached*
> 
> **\- Notification: 30 people swiped right! *heart with arrow emoji***
> 
> \- PM Alert: *Photo attached*

Erik rolled his eyes. He could afford to be picky. 

Out of principle, he deleted every message containing unsolicited dick pics, every message containing cringey misspellings and/or grammar mistakes, every message that was insufferably desperate, every message that was just outright bizarre, and every message that wasn't from a black man. 

That left him with a grand total of just three private messages. Much more manageable. 

Erik turned off the notifications that were blowing up his phone and began to read his messages. 

The first message was from Chad Man, who offered, in very explicit, grammatically correct detail, to  _"wreck [Erik's] twink ass."_

Erik grimaced. 

The second message was from Mike B, who said,  _"I can fuck you?"_

But Mike B looked awfully baby-faced in his headshot, and his opening message just didn't sound dominant enough. Not Erik's type at all. 

The third message was from Black Panther, who simply said, " _Hi."_

Erik was torn.

Black Panther seemed pretty dull, but he'd rather die of sexual frustration than hook up with an alpha who thought that it was a good idea to call himself  _Chad Man,_ regardless of how thoroughly he promised to fuck Erik and how good his grammar was. 

Black Panther it was, then. 

He clicked through to Black Panther's profile, not feeling particularly hopeful. 

> Profile 
> 
> **Name** : Black Panther
> 
> **Age** : 24
> 
> **Sex** : Male
> 
> **Location** : Boston
> 
> **Presentation** : Alpha
> 
> **Seeking** : Omega Women, Omega Men
> 
> **Description:**  I am in town for the week on a work trip. Looking for some short-term fun with an omega partner.

Black Panther's profile picture didn't show his face, only an artsy shot of the back of his body against the setting sun. But he had a  _really_  nice muscled figure, and his screen name tickled Erik's fancy. It reminded him of his life goal - taking the Wakandan throne and the mantle of Black Panther from his nemesis.

This alpha would do.     

> _E Seven:_ hey
> 
> _Black Panther:_ Hello E7! Thanks for replying. 
> 
> _E Seven:_ need heat fuck, JUST FUCK ONLY no strings attached. in heat starting tmr. normally abt 2 full days / 3 days 2 nights. u down? 
> 
> _Black Panther_ : Sure. That sounds perfect. 
> 
> _Black Panther:_  I'm accompanying my father on a work trip. He has been in closed-door meetings throughout and I have nothing much to do. I'll definitely be available to see you through your heat for the next three days. 
> 
> _E Seven:_  kk. dont need ur life story man just need ur dick.
> 
> _E Seven_ : meet where? hotel or motel only. aint gonna visit a strange alphas house
> 
> _E Seven_ : and ur paying. im broke
> 
> _Black Panther_ : That won't be a problem. As an alpha, I should provide for you. Will the Ritz Carlton be convenient for you? 

Erik's eyes widened. His inner omega squealed in delight. 

The Ritz Carlton was a much fancier hotel than Erik had been expecting. A swanky five-star hotel in the city centre, and less than an hour away from MIT too. It was a far cry from the shitty highway motels where Erik had spent his previous heats. 

Erik had finally managed to land a wealthy alpha! A good alpha who had shown that he could provide bountifully for him and for their many cubs - 

Erik shook the thought off. That was just his heat talking.     

> _E Seven:_  itll do. see u tmr at 8am?
> 
> _Black Panther_ : Sure, love. Come up to the top floor. Suite 2.

Erik's inner omega cooed happily at the endearment, and wriggled in delight at the thought of spending his heat with a hot, rich alpha in a  _top-floor presidential suite._

Black Panther was typing again. Erik leaned forward eagerly.     

> _Black Panther_ : Is there anything else that you'd like? Anything that I should know about? 

_Ohh_.

Black Panther was so  _considerate_. Nothing like the other alphas with whom he had spent his previous heats - those guys had just wanted to fuck.

But Black Panther was so caring! So good to him! Erik definitely had to bond this prize alpha immediately - 

_NO_. Erik shut down that hormone-addled train of thought.     

> _E Seven:_ nah not really. just fuck me a lot
> 
> _E Seven_ : do what I say
> 
> _E Seven:_  except if I ask u to bond me then nOT THAT. just push me off. if I try and force it then knock me the fuck out
> 
> _E Seven_ : if u bond me ill kill u im serious *knife emoji*

Erik paused and considered his messages.

Then he sent three more knife emojis.    

> _Black Panther:_ Of course, love. Don't worry. I give you my word that I will not take advantage.

_Ohh_.

Black Panther was so, so sweet and comforting!

He was just  _perfect_. 

Erik couldn't wait to meet his alpha.  

* * *

Erik couldn't sit still during the Uber ride to the Ritz Carlton. He was too strung out with anticipation, heat simmering uncomfortably under his skin, tingling in his extremities.    

His Uber driver, an elderly beta woman with streaked green hair, had taken one look at Erik's sweat-slick face as he was getting into her car and snorted.

"You're really pushing it," she had said. "Even I can smell you from here."

Erik gritted his teeth. He hated being out in public and interacting with strangers so close to his heat. All he wanted to do was hole up and hide somewhere safe. Somewhere safe and  _alone_  with his alpha. 

Erik groaned and slumped down in his seat. "Just stop talking and drive faster," he mumbled. "I feel like shit. 'M burning up. Need my alpha."

Erik couldn't really afford the Uber, but he was already in the initial throes of heat and it would be suicidal to take public transport at this stage. He wouldn't put it past any unbonded alpha to take him on the spot. 

Erik had to see Black Panther  _now_ , damn it. 

"Aww, honey. Take deep breaths," his driver advised. She helpfully turned up the air conditioning for Erik, but the blasts of cool air provided little relief.

His body demanded an alpha's hormones, an alpha's knot. 

"I'm gonna die," Erik whined. "Hurry up."

"I'm going as fast as I can," his driver said. "Morning traffic, you know how it is. How come you didn't book your ride earlier, huh?" 

"I was gonna meet him at eight! How was I supposed to know it would start so early? You know these things aren't that predictable! It's never come so early before!" Erik fought down the illogical urge to burst into tears, but he couldn't stop his eyes from getting wet. 

Fucking mood swings. Fucking omega hormones. 

"There, there, honey, don't cry," his driver said sympathetically. "I wasn't scolding you! Look, I'll get you there as fast as I can. Poor baby."

At any other time, Erik would have bristled at being soothed like a fussy child. But at this stage of his heat, all he could do was wish that Black Panther was here to comfort him instead. 

 

* * *

The lift ride up to the top floor of the Ritz Carlton seemed to take forever.   

Erik was so highly strung that he didn't even have the presence of mind to appreciate his lush, opulent surroundings. All he could think of was his burning, desperate need for his alpha. 

Erik's heat hadn't even properly started yet. This was just the initial throes of hot flashes - he hadn't even begun slicking. He had never felt this bad at the first stage before. But then again, in Erik's previous heats, there had always been an unbonded alpha around to help him through this initial stage. 

Damn it. Why had his heat started so early this time? It was completely unprecedented. 

Fuck.

He shouldn't have worked himself up by thinking so much about Black Panther yesterday. He must have jump-started the process or something. 

Erik checked his reflection in the large mirror in the lift, preening for his alpha. 

He looked like a mess. Face flushed with a dark red undertone, sweaty dreadlocks flopping against his face - Erik hadn't even had time to fix his appearance properly today. The minute that he had felt that first hot flash, he had panicked and booked the Uber to the Ritz.

Now he looked terrible.

Black Panther wasn't going to like him. He wasn't going to be able to please his alpha. 

Erik felt like crying again. 

_YOU LOOK FINE_ , he mentally shouted at himself, summoning up the last shreds of his lucidity.  _Stop panicking! It's just the stupid heat. No alpha cares what you look like as long as you're in heat. No alpha cares about you as long as they have a heat-slick hole to fuck._

It was a depressing, but slightly comforting thought. 

Finally,  _finally_ , the lift door opened, and Erik stepped out towards the presidential suite, ready to meet his alpha. 

He knocked on the door of Black Panther's suite.

Erik was quite early. He hoped that Black Panther wouldn't be too angry about that - 

\- (the logical part of Erik told himself that there was no way that any alpha would be angry about getting to fuck an omega in heat  _earlier_  than expected) - 

\- but the emotional, instinctive part of Erik just wanted to get on his knees right now and beg for his alpha's forgiveness. 

_NO_. He wasn't that far gone yet, damn it. 

The door swung open. 

Erik jerked his head up, and looked right into the face of his arch nemesis. 

* * *

 

Erik's mind shut down.  

Black Panther... was T'Challa?! 

T'Challa. His cousin. The man whom he had been planning to kill for the past ten years. 

Erik had never seen T'Challa in person, but he had done more than enough research on T'Challa - obsessively reading any relevant articles and news clippings that he could dig up - to know very well what T'Challa looked like. 

No. 

No fucking way. 

It wasn't possible. T'Challa was supposed to be in  _Wakanda_ , not America. Not fucking Boston. 

This was - this had to be someone who just, coincidentally, happened to resemble T'Challa a little bit. 

Okay, an awful lot. 

_NO_.

The universe couldn't possibly be this cruel to him.

It wasn't fucking fair.

No. Black Panther couldn't possibly be T'Challa. He  _definitely_  had to be some stranger, yes, that had to be it - 

Then T'Challa opened his mouth, and Erik's last hope died in his heart. 

"E? You're early," T'Challa said in an authoritative, accented voice that made Erik's knees go weak. "My name is T'Challa. Come on in." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Chadwick. I had to do it.
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some D/s in this chapter. Nothing extreme, T'Challa just bosses Erik around a bit and Erik loves it.
> 
> Also, this is what the hotel room looks like (I did RESEARCH!): [http://www.ritzcarlton.com/en/hotels/boston/rooms-suites/presidential-suite](http://www.ritzcarlton.com/en/hotels/boston/rooms-suites/presidential-suite#fndtn-Photos)
> 
> The suite costs 6,000 USD per night. *grins* Lucky Erik.

T'Challa turned around and went into the room without a backward glance at Erik.

Erik obediently followed T'Challa into the marble foyer. His mind was still reeling in shock.    

The door shut behind Erik, and there was a soft  _whirr_  as the lock automatically engaged, leaving him alone with T'Challa. 

Erik looked around. 

_Damn_.

The presidential suite was even more lavish than he had imagined. So luxurious that his jaw actually dropped upon taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows facing out towards the garden, the tasteful marble and hardwood fixtures, the long semi-curved sofa arranged in a half-ring around the giant LED television set. 

This suite had to cost a bomb. T'Challa really was filthy rich.

(Erik's inner omega squealed with unabashed glee at that thought.)

T'Challa sat down on one of the sofas, relaxing into an easy sprawl. "Come here, love," T'Challa said. 

Erik felt a tremor rush through his body at the endearment. Almost without conscious thought, his body responded to T'Challa's command. He crossed the room in large strides and climbed into T'Challa's lap, straddling him, both his knees on either side of T'Challa's body.

Erik buried his face into the crook of T'Challa's neck, inhaling the delicious alpha scent. The feeling of T'Challa against him - the incredible relief of T'Challa's cool skin brushing against Erik's own heated flesh - helped to temporarily soothe Erik's fevered mind, although he knew that he'd be entering full-blown heat very soon. Probably within the next half hour. 

T'Challa wrapped Erik in a tight embrace, his hands coming up to cup and knead Erik's ass possessively. 

"What's your name?" T'Challa asked, his voice deep and husky. "Or would you prefer that I call you E?" 

"I'm Erik," Erik mumbled, squirming at the touch, even as he nuzzled into T'Challa's neck. 

The proximity to an unbonded alpha toned down the worst of the hot flashes, helping to clear Erik's mind a little. It allowed Erik to rationalize what he was going to do next. 

He was actually going to do it. 

He was going to sleep with his cousin. His fucking arch-enemy.

He was really going to let T'Challa fuck him. 

_It's just sex,_ Erik told himself. It wasn't like this was going to change anything. He was just going to use T'Challa to satisfy a temporary biological need, that was all.

It might even work out in the long run, if it made T'Challa soften up towards Erik. T'Challa would become sloppier, make more mistakes around him. It would become that much easier for Erik to kill him. 

Yeah.

Spending his heat with T'Challa was actually a good idea. A great idea!

Everything was definitely going to work out. 

And it wasn't as if Erik had no choice in this matter. He  _did_. Now that his mind was clearer, Erik believed that if he really wanted to, he could summon up enough willpower to turn around and walk away from T'Challa right now. There was an abundance of other unbonded alphas out there who would be willing to fuck him.

In fact, now that he was coming into full-blown heat, Erik could walk out the door right now and hook any alpha he wanted. In a pinch, he supposed that he could probably bang the housekeeper he had just passed by in the corridor. No other alpha would possibly be able to turn him down. 

But Erik didn't want those other alphas. He just wanted T'Challa.

T'Challa smelled so damned  _good_. He was so rich and handsome. Dominant, yet caring. Every instinct in Erik's body screamed that he would be such a good mate. A good father to their cubs. 

Erik had to bond him right now! He had to lock T'Challa down and bear his cubs before another horrible omega  _slut_  sank their hooks into him and snatched him away - 

_NO._

T'Challa was still his enemy, for God's sake. He couldn't let himself lose sight of that. 

"Just so you know, before we start," Erik said indignantly, pulling away from T'Challa, "I ain't gonna let you bond me. I ain't gonna bear your cubs."

T'Challa blinked up at him. "Of course, Erik. I thought we had already agreed on that."

"I got rights. And I know the law," Erik continued regardless, baring his teeth a little. He had to drive this point in before the madness of full-blown heat came upon him and he lost his mind completely. "I already said no. Now I can kill you if you bond me. And I've already told my roommate  _and_  a bunch of friends  _and_  my academic adviser that I wasn't gonna bond anyone. I even told the concierge downstairs. I got it down in writing from you too. If I come out of this heat bonded to you, you're fucking dead. I'm not kidding." 

Erik sat back on his heels, breathing slightly hard, waiting for T'Challa's reaction. 

The last few alphas Erik had spent his heats with had become extremely angry upon receiving this speech. They had been insulted that Erik would go to such lengths to protect himself. As if Erik would be foolish enough not to do so, when being bonded had such serious repercussions on an omega.

The alpha-omega bond altered an omega's physiology and allowed the bonded omega to bear their alpha's cubs at will. Bonded omegas were perennially fertile, unlike unbonded omegas, who were only fertile when they were in heat. However, the most drastic effect of the bond wasn't its effect on the omega's physiology. It was the bond's effect on the omega's mind. 

A bonded omega would instinctively seek out love, comfort and protection from their bonded alpha; and a bonded alpha would instinctively seek to offer care, comfort and protection to their bonded omega. Erik knew that if he ever bonded with an alpha, the emotional neediness which he was currently feeling in his heat state would extend to the rest of his life. Admittedly at a much lower intensity, but Erik still saw it as a violation of his freedom, no matter how slight. 

The mind-altering nature of the alpha-omega bond meant that it was a serious crime to force a bond on an unconsenting omega, or even on an omega who had only consented under the influence of heat. The law was on Erik's side in this. Erik was legally allowed to kill any alpha who bonded or attempted to bond him without his express consent. 

Erik didn't care if his precautions offended T'Challa. He would rather die than be bonded to any alpha. 

However, T'Challa did not appear to be offended. There was nothing but compassion and understanding in his eyes as he looked up at Erik. "I understand, Erik. Don't worry. I will not bond you," T'Challa said seriously. 

"You're not angry?" Erik asked suspiciously, still tensed for a fight. 

"No, of course not. In fact, I think that was very smart of you," T'Challa assured him.

Erik couldn't help preening at the praise from his alpha, leaning back into T'Challa's touch. 

"Is there anything else that you're worried about, love? Anything that you want to tell me?" T'Challa asked, stroking Erik's back. 

"Nah. You can do anything you want to me. Just no bonding." Erik said, burying his face into T'Challa's neck again. "Y'know, you're really nice. I didn't think -" 

Erik cut himself off, horrified that he had blurted out something so embarrassing. 

But T'Challa just laughed, a deep rumble that reverberated through his body.

"Strip," T'Challa ordered, giving Erik a little push off his lap. "Slowly. I want to watch you."

Erik inhaled sharply, his pulse pounding faster as he tugged his thin blue shirt over his head. He fumbled with the fastening on his pants before letting them slide down to pool around his ankles. With a crook of his finger, T'Challa motioned for Erik to turn on the spot, letting T'Challa take in the full view. Erik could feel the weight of his alpha's heated gaze on him, taking in every inch of bare skin as it was slowly revealed.

Damn. T'Challa was  _good_ at this. He was so commanding. So dominant, as if it came naturally to him. Erik bit his lip, feeling himself getting wet at the thought. A gentle heat burned under his skin, a low simmer that would soon roar into a blazing fire.

"Beautiful," T'Challa murmured, running his cool fingers lightly over Erik's chest. "On your knees, now. Suck me."

Erik scrambled to obey, falling to his knees before T'Challa. He buried his nose in T'Challa's crotch, breathing in the delicious musky scent of his alpha's arousal. T'Challa was already half-hard as Erik eagerly freed his cock from his pants. Erik wasted no time, running his thumb over the head of T'Challa's cock, spreading the pre-come around his slit, down his length. Erik licked his lips once, anxiously wetting them before he leaned forward, catching the head of T'Challa's cock in his mouth.  

"Good boy," T'Challa murmured fondly as he patted Erik's cheek. Erik couldn't stifle a little muffled groan of neediness at the praise. He let his eyelids flutter shut and began to suck in earnest, his universe narrowing down to the exquisite feeling of T'Challa's hot, thick cock stretching his mouth open, just barely brushing against the back of his throat.

T'Challa didn't fuck Erik's mouth brutally, as any other alpha might have done - he didn't push Erik all the way down to choke on his cock. Instead, he allowed Erik to set the pace and the rhythm, steadying Erik with a gentle hand pressed against the back of his head, stroking through Erik's locs. 

Erik bobbed up and down on his alpha's cock, mouth hollowing with each suck, taking time to lavish licks and kisses near the tip and on the sensitive underside. The room was filled with the wet sounds of Erik lapping obscenely at T'Challa's cock, Erik's little moans as he gasped and swallowed around T'Challa's hard length, letting the salty taste of T'Challa's pre-come fill his tongue, enjoying the way T'Challa's thigh muscles tensed and bunched against his cheek.

Somehow, the knowledge that it was his  _enemy_ that he was sucking off just made Erik even more turned on.

T'Challa began to thrust up a little into Erik's mouth, and Erik gasped, feeling tears start to gather in the corners of his eyes as T'Challa fucked his mouth. For the first time during any of his heats, Erik's own pleasure took a back seat. His mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of pleasing his alpha, making his alpha feel good - 

"Enough, Erik," T'Challa finally said, sounding a little ragged. "Get up now." 

Erik made a small noise of protest as T'Challa's cock slipped from his wet lips, but got quiet as T'Challa patted his lap, gesturing for Erik to sit. "I want you to ride my cock," T'Challa said.

Erik's knees were sore as he stood up from his prolonged kneeling position, but T'Challa's hands were on his hips, holding him steady as he helped Erik onto the sofa.

Erik straddled T'Challa again, feeling the tip of T'Challa's cock rub briefly against his rim as he settled himself into T'Challa's lap. He braced himself with both hands on either side of T'Challa's shoulders as T'Challa positioned Erik over his cock.

"Do you want prep first, love?" T'Challa asked, his voice rough with desire. 

"Fuck no! It's fine, I'm wet enough." Erik was too eager to get the fuck on with it. He began to sink slowly down on T'Challa's cock, biting his lip as the tip breached his slick hole. He tried to relax, squeezing his eyes shut at the burn of the intrusion as he settled down inch by inch, panting with the effort as he finally bottomed out. 

"Whenever you're ready," T'Challa murmured.

Erik immediately lifted himself up, rolling his hips as he grinded down into T'Challa's cock. T'Challa thrust upwards to meet him. The slap of his groin against Erik's ass, the way his cock drove even further into him, made Erik cry out. His muscles burned with the strain of holding himself up, of fucking himself up and down on T'Challa's cock as he set a hard, fast rhythm.

The heat was starting to burn hotter now, beginning to ramp up. Erik's moans became quicker, more highly-pitched as he rode T'Challa's cock, pleas spilling almost unconsciously from his mouth:  _'Challa,_ and  _alpha, please, harder_.

T'Challa's hips snapped up to meet Erik with each grind downwards, each clench of Erik's ass. Each hard thrust made Erik gasp and tense, drawing an approving grunt from T'Challa. T'Challa's hand moved, coming up from its firm grip on Erik's hips to brush against the bonding gland on the base of Erik's neck - 

\- and Erik was gone, coming with a cry all over his belly and T'Challa's undoubtedly very expensive shirt. Slick gushed from his hole, trickling down onto the inside of T'Challa's spread thighs as he spasmed around T'Challa's cock.

T'Challa continued to fuck him relentlessly, speeding up even more as he bounced Erik up and down in his lap. Erik could feel the base of T'Challa's cock expanding against his cheeks, catching at the rim of his hole with each thrust.

"Knot me, " Erik begged, throwing his head back to bare his neck to T'Challa. "T'Challa, please, I need it, please - "

He gasped as T'Challa's knot expanded fully within him, stretching him open as T'Challa came inside him with a grunt. The stretch was so wide that it was almost painful, even with the gush of slick and come within him. Erik squirmed in discomfort, but T'Challa's hands were gripping Erik's hips again, firm and cool against Erik's skin as he held his omega in place on his knot.

"Stay still," T'Challa growled in his ear. "Or I'll spank you."

Erik whimpered. Defiantly, he rocked a little in T'Challa's lap, trying to get comfortable even with T'Challa's knot still buried deep within his ass, thick and hot. 

"Naughty," T'Challa said, his voice low and amused. He didn't follow through with his threat, although he did reach back to pinch Erik's ass once, hard enough to make him yelp at the sting and clench down hard on T'Challa's knot again. "Settle down now."

Erik complied, resting his head against T'Challa's shoulder and trying to steady his breathing. He blinked away the tears in his eyes, still trembling a little from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Distantly, Erik could feel the heat continue to burn under his skin. Like a stove turned down to simmer for the moment, but he knew that soon he'd be blazing alight. For the moment, Erik just allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of T'Challa's cool skin against him.

T'Challa still appeared to be completely composed, even after reducing Erik to a shaky, tearful mess. The only thing that betrayed his calm was the tiniest flecks of gold in his irises. 

With a single, slender finger, T'Challa tilted Erik's chin up, leaning forward to press their lips together in a soft kiss - their first kiss. It was sweet and lingering, and Erik sighed at the brush of T'Challa's lips against his own, the stroke of T'Challa's thumb against his cheek. He allowed himself to melt fully into T'Challa's embrace.

"Damn, T'Challa," Erik said after they finally broke away. His voice was trembling slightly. "You're like, made of steel. How come you aren't affected? None of my other alphas ever -" 

" _Do not speak of other alphas now,_ " T'Challa interrupted in a low growl, his eyes flaring gold. 

Erik whimpered, flinching in the face of T'Challa's anger. The instinctive compulsion to appease his alpha was immediate and automatic, overwhelming what little remained of Erik's reason. "Sorry, alpha, I'm sorry -" 

"Shhh, love. It's all right. Calm down," T'Challa soothed, pressing another kiss against Erik's forehead. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to get angry with you. And to answer your question, I am indeed affected by you. I just have a lot of self-control. It also helps that you're not in full heat yet. Once that happens, I will be much less restrained."

"It's gonna start real soon," Erik warned. He could feel it happening - the fire was starting to build up in his blood now, crescendoing to an almost painful burn. His skin was beginning to get uncomfortably hot and tingly. 

"Let's take this to the bedroom," T'Challa said. His knot had deflated enough for him to slide Erik off. "Put your arms around me."

Erik wound his arms around T'Challa's neck, and T'Challa lifted Erik easily off the sofa as if he weighed nothing. He moved towards the bedroom in quick, long strides. Erik buried his face in his alpha's neck, moaning as he rubbed against T'Challa's cool skin, trying and failing to find relief. 

T'Challa placed Erik gently on the bed. Erik groaned at the loss of skin on skin contact, feeling uncomfortably lost and alone. The heat madness was finally, fully upon him now.

Fire pounded through Erik's blood, burning all reason from his mind. He couldn't even breathe without pain. Each breath dragged from the air felt as if it were burning in his lungs.

"Fuck me," Erik begged, spreading his legs wide apart. Slick trickled down his inner thighs, wetting the pristine white sheets "Fuck me, alpha, please,  _please_ , I need you, please, it hurts, I'm gonna die - "   

T'Challa was on him in a flash, eyes glowing gold. Erik shut his eyes in blissful relief as his alpha's cock thrust into him again, hard and sudden, enough to make him scream.

 

* * *

Two times on the bed, and once more in the shower. Now Erik was bent over the side of the bed, feet on the ground with his round ass in the air. T'Challa was fucking him fast and hard, pounding into Erik mercilessly as Erik squirmed on his cock, stifling his breathy moans into the pillow. There was no more gentleness in T'Challa's movements now, only the hard pistoning of his hips, in and out. 

Erik thrust back, begging for more each time. wanting, needing to be fully connected with his alpha. To be fucked and bonded and bred.

"Bond me," Erik begged, letting his head fall forward to expose the base of his neck. "Alpha, please!"

Behind him, T'Challa stilled. "No."

Erik cried out in frustration and distress. Why? What had he done wrong? Why didn't his alpha want him? Wasn't he good enough?

"Shh, love. You're perfect. You're so good for me. I'm going to make you feel so good." T'Challa murmured soothing praise into Erik's ear as he began to thrust again.

It was enough to distract the mindless animal within Erik. He settled down, fingers twisting and clutching the sheets as T'Challa began to fuck him once again.

Later on, when his senses had returned to him again, Erik would think back on this moment with a mixture of relief and morbid curiosity, wondering at what could have happened.

 

* * *

Night had fallen.

Erik's heat was in a lull now. The heat came and went in waves, peaking and lulling. During each lull, Erik's mind would briefly clear, as if he were swimming up through a thick fog.

Currently, Erik's mind was clear enough for him to take stock of the situation. He felt exhausted and pleasantly sore all over. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been fucked.

T'Challa really had incredible stamina. He didn't even seem the least bit tired. None of the other alphas he'd previously been with could come close, although of course they didn't have the benefit of being magically enhanced. 

Erik wondered if he ought to try and call T'Challa out on it - make some sort of sarcastic remark on T'Challa's prowess - but he decided that he was just too warm and comfortable right now to be properly snarky.

Right now, Erik was curled up against T'Challa, obediently opening his mouth every couple of minutes to eat a small piece of sandwich off T'Challa's fingers.   

"Ain't hungry," Erik had protested the first time T'Challa had ordered room service, but a sharp look from his alpha had been enough to quell him. "You need to stay hydrated, Erik. And you need to eat."

T'Challa had arranged a pile of pillows for Erik to rest against, but Erik preferred to curl around his alpha instead, with his head resting in T'Challa's lap. He liked the feeling of T'Challa's cool skin against his own. T'Challa's proximity made him feel safe. Cared for. Happy.

Erik hadn't felt so good in a very, very long time.

"How much longer, do you think?" T'Challa asked, stroking Erik's warm forehead.

"Dunno. Heat feels more distant now. I think it's starting to wind down," Erik mumbled. "Still want you to fuck me, though."

T'Challa laughed. "Eat more first, love," he said, bringing another piece of bread to Erik's lips. Erik took extra care to lap at T'Challa's slender fingers, enjoying his short little inhale of breath. T'Challa barely lost control of himself, even when faced with an omega in heat. Erik would take what he could get. 

 

* * *

Erik was cuddled in T'Challa's arms. They had fallen asleep together during one of the lull periods. Erik's head was resting on T'Challa's forearm as T'Challa spooned him from the back. T'Challa's breath was coming warmly against his neck, right above his mating gland. 

Wait. Warmth? His alpha ought to be feeling cool to the touch.

That meant that his heat was finally ramping down. The fog was finally lifting from Erik's mind, the hormone-driven urge to mate finally leaving Erik's body. 

Erik sighed, then stretched out, trying to relax his sore muscles. The urge to be fucked was gone, finally. Now he just wanted to be petted and cuddled instead.

"T'Challa? Wake up," Erik whispered, nudging T'Challa. "I think it's over."

T'Challa snuffled in his sleep, but was otherwise unresponsive.

Erik sighed in frustration, then untangled himself from the sleeping alpha's arms without disturbing him. He'd wash up first, then wake T'Challa up so that T'Challa could pet him properly.

Erik got out of bed, wincing at the soreness in his ass.

He bent over and pressed a light, brief kiss on T'Challa's cheek before padding over to the ensuite toilet, flicking on the light switch as he passed. Almost on automatic, Erik bent over the sink, splashing some cold water onto his face, and then -

The sheer magnitude of what he'd just done suddenly came crashing down upon Erik.

Erik froze, stiffening.

He jerked his head up to look at himself in the mirror. His own panicked, wide-eyed reflection stared back at him.   

_Fuck. I've fucked up._

It began to dawn on Erik that that he had made a terrible, horrible mistake. And all because of his own hubris.

For some inexplicable reason, Erik had thought that sleeping with T'Challa would somehow give  _Erik_  the upper hand. Would weaken T'Challa, make T'Challa soften towards him.

Instead, Erik was the one who now felt like an absolute mess. 

He glanced over his shoulder at T'Challa's sleeping form on the bed, feeling his own heart clench. There was a soft, tender ache in his chest.

T'Challa had been so good to him over the past two days. Firm, but caring. Dominant, but gentle. And he'd fucked Erik  _so_ well that Erik could barely walk.

_Fuck._

He never should have spent his heat with T'Challa. That had been a terrible, horrible idea.

How could he possibly have known that T'Challa would be such a good mate?   

All Erik wanted to do right now was return to the bedroom and snuggle back into the safety of his alpha's arms. To wake T'Challa up, confess everything to him, and then beg T'Challa to comfort him and make things right.

_NO._

Erik couldn't let things spiral any further out of his control. The next thing he knew, he would be begging for T'Challa to bond him and knock him up.

That thought now sent a pleasant frisson of excitement and anticipation through Erik, instead of the horrified rejection that he ought to have felt.

_NO._ Fuck!

He was so far gone. T'Challa had really ruined him.

This was all T'Challa's fault.

Erik bared his teeth at himself in the mirror, trying to work up some of his original animosity towards his cousin.

It didn't come. There was only that horrible, awful fondness.

Fuck!

Erik dropped his head into his hands. He was fucked.

There was really only one possible way to deal with this. 

Erik tiptoed back into the room, trying not to make too much noise. Thankfully, T'Challa was still fast asleep. He hadn't even moved from his original position. 

Erik picked his clothes up off the floor and got dressed as quickly as possible.

Then, gritting his teeth, he let himself out of the room before he could do anything else that he'd later regret.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in posting this!! There was a lot of really over-the-top drama going down in my main fandom (reylo) the previous week, and I got caught up in it D:
> 
> Anyway, things have hopefully been resolved now, so I'll be going back to my regular posting schedule of 1 - 2 chapters per week. I promise none of my fics have been abandoned!

 

_Five years later_

"We're landing in one minute, your Highness," Okoye announced as she expertly guided the Royal Talon Fighter down towards its landing point on the roof of the building. 

"Thank you, Okoye," T'Challa murmured, distracted. 

It was T'Challa's first time back in America since that diplomatic trip with his father five years ago. The memory of that single, unforgettable night he had spent with Erik back then still stirred up long-buried feelings of sadness. It only intensified as the Royal Talon Fighter approached its landing point. 

Five years ago, he had woken up from his sleep to discover that his bed was empty, his omega gone. All his messages to Erik had gone unanswered. Evidently, Erik had wanted nothing further to do with T'Challa once his heat had passed. 

Hurt and confused, T'Challa had briefly contemplated using his vast resources to track Erik down. He had a name, an age, a photograph, and Erik's general location. He also knew that Erik was a student because of Erik's mention of his academic advisor - probably an MIT student, given the location of their hookup. T'Challa had more than enough information to enable Shuri or his War Dogs to track Erik down. 

However, in the end, T'Challa had decided to respect Erik's wishes to be left alone. Erik had made it clear from the beginning that he wanted nothing more than sex. Even though T'Challa had been completely charmed by Erik -  by how Erik had alternated between fierce stubbornness and sweet submission, how he had been at once passionately aggressive as well as achingly vulnerable - it was obvious that Erik did not feel the same way about him. Clearly, Erik had only wanted an alpha to see him through his heat. 

It was almost pathetic how much T'Challa missed Erik, even to this day. He truly felt that Erik would have been the perfect mate.

Back then, T'Challa had seriously considered revealing his background to Erik once his heat was over. He had planned to ask Erik if he would be willing to date him. To try to pursue something serious.

It was too bad that Erik turned out not to care about him at all. He had probably forgotten all about T'Challa within a week of his heat. 

If only... 

Sighing, T'Challa shook off his feelings of melancholy. He was here on a mission. He had a job to do. 

Just this morning, T'Challa had received an intelligence report of a mislabelled vibranium artifact from Wakanda which was currently on exhibit at a museum in Washington, America. This ought to have been a simple retrieval operation that could have been handled by any of his War Dogs already in position, but there was a complication. T'Challa had received a separate intelligence report from his War Dogs that Ulysses Klaue was in the area, and could potentially be making a move on the artifact.

Because of this, T'Challa decided to personally handle this artifact retrieval mission. Klaue was an extremely wily man who had escaped capture by Wakandan forces for over a decade. On top of that, Klaue had access to stolen vibranium, and there were rumours that he had constructed some sort of handheld weapon out of it. T'Challa did not want to send his War Dogs into such a risky situation.

Also, T'Challa wanted an excuse to try out his new Black Panther suit in the field. 

Light as a feather, the shielded Royal Talon Fighter touched down gently on the roof of the National Museum. 

"The artifact is in Hall Three, on the first floor," Okoye said. "I'm running scans of the hall now. You can go in when it's empty... Wait. There's something odd."

"What's wrong?" T'Challa asked. 

"The ship's scanners show that there are five people in the hall. But the surveillance feed from the museum's CCTVs only shows the museum curator alone in there." 

"Klaue is already here," T'Challa said in realisation. "His team must have hacked the surveillance footage. I'm going in now." 

T'Challa activated his new Black Panther suit as he exited the ship, letting it flow over his skin from the teeth of his necklace. 

"The fire escape is on your right," Okoye told T'Challa via his earpiece. "Four flights down."

Distantly, T'Challa could hear the wails of ambulance sirens approaching their building. 

"An ambulance is pulling up at the front of the museum," Okoye reported to T'Challa. "Looks like someone's injured." 

_If Klaue had already started hurting or killing civilians -_

"The fire escape is too slow. I'm going down the building," T'Challa said tersely. 

"The fire escape _is_ the way down the building -" 

Ignoring Okoye, T'Challa took a few steps back, then made a quick run for the edge of the building, gathering up momentum. He took a flying leap off the edge, spinning in mid-air so that he was facing the building itself. His vibranium claws scratched down hard against the concrete surface of the building as he fell, throwing up showers of sparks in their wake. 

T'Challa landed in an alley, crouched on all fours like a cat. His suit absorbed the sound and the impact of his fall.

_Hmm. Shuri's new sneaker technology was really very good._

"Impressive," Okoye said dryly in his earpiece. "Now go towards the ambulance at the front. The two paramedics loading the stretcher into the ambulance? One of them is Klaue. He already has the artifact."

Rising to his feet, T'Challa raced out of the alley. He was just in time to see two people dressed as paramedics preparing to load a woman on a stretcher into an ambulance. 

One of them was Klaue, whose eyes widened in crazed delight as he spotted T'Challa. The other "paramedic" was a man wearing a strange, horned mask. With his keen herb-enhanced senses, T'Challa picked up a faint waft of sweet omega scent coming from that man.

That scent was...somehow familiar?

But there were more important things to worry about at the moment. Klaue reached into the back of the ambulance and grabbed two guns, tossing one of them to the masked man. Both of them immediately started firing at T'Challa.

T'Challa didn't bother to duck or evade the sprays of bullets. He let the bullets bounce harmlessly off his suit instead as he stalked towards the two men, allowing his claws to flash outwards as he did so.

"Don't bother shooting him!" the masked man snarled. "His suit is blocking it! Just throw the fucking bomb!"

_That voice..._

Klaue flung a small, ticking grenade towards him. It rolled towards T'Challa, stopping only a few inches away from the stretcher bearing the unconscious woman.

Oh _fuck._  

T'Challa leapt on the grenade at once, covering it with his body. He sent a small prayer to Bast that Shuri's suit was indeed as impact-absorbent as she had bragged. 

Three...

Two...

One.

The grenade went off with a flash, sending purple shockwaves snaking through his suit. The sound of the blast was completely absorbed by the vibranium, but the impact of the explosion was still powerful enough to knock T'Challa over. T'Challa rolled over several times on the ground, completely dazed.

"GO!" the masked man shouted over his shoulder at the driver, taking advantage of T'Challa's temporary incapacity. He backed away into the ambulance, dragging Klaue in with him.

As the doors of the ambulance slammed shut in front of the masked man, T'Challa caught sight of a very familiar ring chained around his neck, glinting in the sunlight. The ring was jet black, threaded with jagged silver streaks of what was undoubtedly vibranium. 

It was the exact twin of the royal ring which T'Challa wore around his finger. 

_What?_

T'Challa froze, stunned. 

At that very instant, he suddenly recalled exactly why the omega man's voice and scent was so familiar. 

_Erik?!_

 

* * *

"Contact Shuri, _now_ ," T'Challa told Okoye tersely as he entered the Royal Talon Fighter. "And turn this ship around. We're going back to Wakanda."

"Actually, I think we can probably still catch up with Klaue," Okoye said. "He can't have gone that far. Hang on, I'll turn on the ship's scanners." 

"No!" T'Challa snapped. "We're going back right now!"

Okoye blinked in surprise. 

T'Challa took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "I didn't mean to snap at you, General," he said. "But something has just happened which is much, much more important than tracking down Ulysses Klaue. We have to return to Wakanda immediately. And call Shuri now."

"Yes, your Highness," Okoye said formally, turning back to the ship controls. T'Challa could tell that she was displeased, but she was too professional to let any trace of that show through in her demeanour. 

No matter. T'Challa decided that he could explain everything to Okoye in due course. 

The moment Shuri's holographic projection appeared in front of him, T'Challa immediately started issuing instructions. 

"Shuri, I need any information you can track down on an American man named Erik, alias Erik Seven. He was in Boston around five years ago, on -" T'Challa paused, searching his memory. "- on the dates of 16 to 17 July, 2013. It's likely that he was a student studying at an university in the area at that time. Height of about 1.8 metres, presentation: omega. I have a profile of him, which I'm sending over to you right now. This man is a known partner of Klaue and possibly has some connection to Wakanda. They are working together and both of them are armed and dangerous. You need to make this your top priority." 

"Sure, brother," Shuri said, her eyes wide with surprise. "I'll get right to it. Wait - is that a _heat_   _dating app_ profile? Seriously? How did you even get that?"

T'Challa winced. "Don't ask."

Shuri began to read aloud from Erik's profile. " _Want alpha m dtf 2 or 3 days. heat fuck ONLY no strings attached. hotel or motel (ur paying)_... Oh Bast. Don't tell me you hooked up with Klaue's man!" Shuri exclaimed. "You hooked up with Klaue's partner through _OACupid?! You_ _slept with Klaue's omega?!"_

"I meant it! Don't ask. Just look up Erik for me, please," T'Challa said through gritted teeth. "And don't bring that up again, _ever_. Bast. I'm never, ever going to have a one-night stand again for the rest of my life."

T'Challa switched off the projection and turned back to face Okoye.

Okoye's eyebrows had gone all the way up. "You -" 

"That includes you, too. Don't ask me," T'Challa said tiredly.

"I'm sorry, T'Challa. But I can't just let this go. This is a matter of national security. Even if you recognised that man, there was no reason for you to call the entire mission off. If that omega seduced you - if your history with that man has compromised your objectivity -" 

"He didn't seduce me!" T'Challa protested. "If he was trying to do so, he did a very bad job of it. We haven't been in contact at all after that one night. And I didn't call the mission off because Erik compromised me. I'm calling the mission off because I need to return to Wakanda and speak with Zuri in person. Immediately."

"Zuri?" Okoye said, with some surprise. "Whatever for? What does Zuri have to do with all of this?" 

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," T'Challa said grimly. 

 

* * *

Deep in thought, T'Challa let his head fall back against the back of the throne.

The pieces were starting to fall into place, now that he had received Zuri's confession and Shuri's report. 

Erik Stevens - _Killmonger_ \- was his cousin. Prince N'Jobu's son. 

Erik undoubtedly had a huge grudge against Wakanda. Against Wakandans in general, and T'Challa personally. After all, his father had been killed by T'Challa's own father, without even the show of a trial. Summarily executed in America, and his corpse left behind for the young boy to discover. 

T'Challa's heart clenched in sorrow and pity. 

And after that, Erik had spent at least five years training and operating in service of the CIA. Hardening himself into a killer. 

And now he had joined up with Ulysses Klaue, another enemy of Wakanda. 

T'Challa sighed, rubbing his temples. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Erik wanted. 

_Revenge_. 

Revenge against Wakanda. Against the throne.

Erik was, without a doubt, a serious threat to T'Challa's country and to T'Challa himself. A monster of their own making, indeed. 

Even so, T'Challa still couldn't bring himself to feel any animosity towards his cousin, who had already suffered so much at their hands, and whose anger and grievances were completely legitimate. 

Okoye was right. He was compromised.

There was absolutely no way that T'Challa could bring himself to hurt Erik, even after Erik had shown that he was completely willing to shoot T'Challa and throw bombs at him. 

T'Challa sighed. What was he going to do now? 

At that moment, his kimoyo beads buzzed, signalling an incoming call from W'Kabi. 

"A man has shown up at the border," W'Kabi informed T'Challa tersely, the moment that T'Challa picked up the call. "He's one of ours, and he's brought Klaue's body with him. He demands an audience with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The arms deal in Seoul never happens because I want to cut down on plot complications. So after the museum heist, Erik immediately kills Klaue and brings his corpse and the vibranium artifact back to Wakanda.
> 
> \- Wakanda definitely uses the metric system, lmao.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik enters the throne room determined to pick a fight, but T'Challa is NICE to him because fuck canon.
> 
> \+ Also, alphas won't form knots outside of heat (I'm not very into the whole knotting thing, haha. But I know it's an expected part of ABO fics).

 

Killing Klaue was easy, once he had let his guard down. 

It was no trouble at all for Erik to shoot Klaue in the head when his back was turned. Klaue certainly was not expecting to be betrayed by his very own omega, right after that same man had saved his ass from the Black Panther himself. 

Erik watched with grim satisfaction as Klaue's body slumped to the ground, a look of wide-eyed disbelief frozen for eternity on the mercenary's face. 

He didn't bother to shut Klaue's eyes before carelessly throwing a tarp over him, shrouding the bloody corpse from sight. 

 

* * *

Getting over the border was slightly more tricky.

After landing his plane at the edge of the border, Erik was confronted by several hostile Wakandan border guards. Only their leader's clear gratitude towards the man who had killed Klaue was enough to prevent the rest of the guards from turning Erik away despite his tattoo. 

"He may have somehow gotten a War Dog tattoo, but he's still an outsider," one of the guards protested to their leader W'Kabi in Xhosa, unaware that Erik was able to understand every word that they were saying. 

Erik frowned, feeling unexpectedly hurt and annoyed. 

"He killed Klaue. That's good enough for me," W'Kabi said, a look of grim satisfaction on his face.

It looked like there was some personal history between Klaue and W'Kabi. Out of everyone gathered here, W'Kabi was the person who was most likely to become a potential ally. 

"Can I talk to you in private?" Erik asked W'Kabi, briefly touching his ring for luck. "I got something to show ya. And a story I wanna tell."

 

* * *

An hour later, W'Kabi and a few of his selected guards escorted Erik into the throne room. 

To Erik's displeasure, his hands were cuffed behind his back - W'Kabi had insisted on this, even though he was very sympathetic to Erik's story. Erik shifted his hands minutely, feeling his annoyance rise exponentially as the cool vibranium cuffs cut into his wrists. 

He wasn't a fucking criminal. He was a prince, damn it. 

Erik was in a towering rage by the time they reached the throne room. The entire room fell silent as they entered, all eyes turning towards the newcomer.  

T'Challa was sitting on the vibranium throne, back straight, head high, flanked on both sides by two rows of Dora Milaje - the king's alpha guards. He did not seem surprised to see Erik. 

As angry as he was, Erik's heart still leapt at his first sight of T'Challa in five years. 

T'Challa hadn't changed very much since their last meeting in Boston. He was as handsome as Erik had remembered, except that now, after five years of being the Black Panther, his frame had filled out, and his muscles were even more well-defined. 

T'Challa stood up from the throne in a smooth, sleek motion and began to stalk towards Erik, his movements as graceful as a cat.

Erik fixed a sneer on his face and tried desperately to maintain his composure as T'Challa approached. He wasn't in heat now, damn it. There was no reason why T'Challa would still be affecting him this way.

"Erik," T'Challa said neutrally, as he stopped right in front of Erik's face. His voice was firm and deep, ringing with authority. 

_Mate_ , every instinct in Erik's body screamed, driving his yearning to lean into T'Challa's body. To beg for his touch. 

Erik held himself perfectly still instead, falling back on his army training. He locked his hands behind his back in parade rest, clenching his fists.

Thank god W'Kabi had insisted on the handcuffs just now. At least the cuffs physically prevented him from doing anything totally embarrassing, such as reaching out to caress T'Challa's cheek.

_Fucking hormones._

"Your Highness," Erik greeted T'Challa in response. His words were respectful, but the sneering tone in his voice was definitely not.

A ripple of disapproval passed through the council elders. 

"You know why I'm here," Erik said to T'Challa, challengingly. "I'm staying in your house. I served justice to a man who stole your vibranium and murdered your people. Justice your king couldn't deliver," Erik added, turning slightly to address the council elders.

T'Challa let Erik's jibes wash over him. "I don't care about Klaue," T'Challa said. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Erik could see W'Kabi stiffen in rage. 

"Only you," T'Challa continued.

Erik's heart skipped a beat. 

"What do you want, Erik?" T'Challa asked.

Erik recovered quickly. "I want the throne," he snarled, jerking his chin in the direction of the vibranium seat. "I challenge you for the mantle of King and Black Panther!" 

Derisive, jeering laughter rang out through the throne room. Who could believe the audacity of this American's request?  

"No," T'Challa said calmly. "I will not fight you."

"Why are we entertaining this charlatan? Send him away, son," Queen Mother Ramonda said, glaring at Erik with poorly-concealed disgust and hostility.

But to Erik's surprise, T'Challa did not do so. 

"Tell them who you are," T'Challa said instead. He moved to stand beside Erik, facing the crowd. 

Erik swallowed, temporarily struck speechless. 

T'Challa's support was...completely unexpected. Welcome, but unexpected. Erik had thought that T'Challa would be hostile and aggressive towards him -  that he would be angry at Erik for stealing his kill, or that he would blame Erik for hiding the truth from him when they had met five years ago. However, from the beginning, T'Challa had treated him with nothing but respect and affection. He had supported Erik even in the face of his own people's hostility. 

It was unexpectedly touching. At least Erik wasn't alone. 

"Ndingu Yaba N'Jadaka, unyanaka N'Jobu!" Erik declared.  _I am N'Jadaka, son of N'Jobu!_

An excited babble rose among the spectators in the throne room. 

On cue, W'Kabi drew out Erik's ring, the identical twin of T'Challa's own royal ring. T'Challa carefully took the ring from W'Kabi's grip, allowing the chain to slip through his fingers. The black and silver vibranium band sparkled in the sunlight, drawing everyone's attention. 

"It can't be!" Ramonda gasped.

"It's true," T'Challa confirmed. "This ring previously belonged to our grandfather, King Azzuri. Before he died, he gave each of his rings to his two sons, my father T'Chaka and his brother, Prince N'Jobu."

"And then my father passed his ring down to me," Erik completed. "Hey auntie," Erik added cheekily, enjoying the twin looks of shock and dismay on the faces of his aunt Ramonda and his cousin Shuri. Clearly, T'Challa hadn't told the rest of his family about Erik yet. 

"I am sorry, cousin," T'Challa said earnestly. "I only just found out the truth. If I had known about this earlier, I'd have done my best to bring you home to Wakanda. You belong here with us."

"You think that an apology can make it all better?" Erik said, clenching his hands into fists. Thinking about what could have been made Erik's heart hurt, and caused his anger to return in full force. "T'Chaka killed my father! I found my daddy with panther claws in his chest! You think that saying you're _sorry_ can fix all that? That I'll forget about it and we'll all be one big happy family? You think we're just gonna kiss and make up? That I'mma let you bond with me and knock me up?"

Scandalized gasps broke out among the onlookers. Even T'Challa looked taken aback.

"Erik..." T'Challa said slowly. "I haven't told anyone else about our history together." 

_Fuck_. 

Erik felt a heated flush rise to his cheeks as the gossiping rose in pitch and volume. None of the tribal elders gathered in the throne room had expected their King to confirm the outsider's crazy allegations, but T'Challa had just effectively admitted before the entire court that there was _history_ between Erik and himself. 

T'Challa took pity on Erik's obvious embarrassment. 

"We'll continue this conversation in private. Leave us," T'Challa ordered, sweeping his gaze around the room. 

Nobody moved a muscle. This had to be the biggest royal scandal in Wakanda in at least a thousand years - an assassination, now exposed, a long-lost prince, now returned, and an incestuous love affair, now revealed before the entire court. Who would want to miss a second of this drama? 

T'Challa raised his voice. "Everyone  _out!_ "

Okoye got to her feet, levelling her vibranium spear at the crowd. Beside her, the other Dora Milaje warriors did the same. 

Reluctantly, the spectators began to file out of the throne room. Shuri, the last one to leave, lingered in the doorway for a few seconds, looking as if she desperately wanted to say something. But T'Challa waved her away too. 

When the room was finally clear and the doors had closed behind Shuri, T'Challa turned back to face Erik again. 

"Let me out of these," Erik demanded immediately, wriggling his hands against the handcuffs. 

T'Challa touched a bead on his kimoyo bracelet and the vibranium cuffs unlatched themselves from Erik's wrists, falling soundlessly to the ground. 

Erik immediately took a swing at T'Challa once his hands were free, but T'Challa easily stepped out of the way. 

"Can we talk calmly, Erik? Without violence?" T'Challa asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"...Fine," Erik muttered, giving up and rubbing his sore wrists instead. It was pointless to pick a fight with T'Challa when the power of the heart-shaped herb was still running through his blood. "Just say what you wanna say, and _then_ we can fight. And I don't wanna hear any more of your pointless fucking apologies."

"All right. Let's start over from the beginning," T'Challa said. "First, I'd like to thank you for killing Klaue. I'm sorry if I sounded dismissive about this earlier. Klaue has been a thorn in our side for decades, but he has always managed to slip past our War Dogs. We're in your debt." 

Erik shrugged nonchalantly. "What, like it's hard?" he said, even though he was preening inwardly at T'Challa's acknowledgment.  _Ha! I killed Klaue all by myself. Something you couldn't do, even with all of your resources._

A small, affectionate smile appeared on T'Challa's face, tugging up the corners of his lips. 

"Why did you do it, though?" T'Challa asked curiously. "I thought that the two of you were working together. Allies against Wakanda."

"Nah. I just needed his body to get past the border," Erik said. "He didn't mean anything to me. Wasn't hard to kill Klaue, once he started to trust me. He sure wasn't expecting to be betrayed by his own omega -" 

" _His own_ omega? Youbonded with _Klaue_?" T'Challa snarled, his eyes flashing gold with jealous rage. He had kept his calm throughout, even in the face of Erik's rudeness, but this comparatively innocuous statement was what made T'Challa truly enraged.

Erik couldn't suppress an instinctive backwards flinch in the face of the alpha's anger. He immediately hated himself for that show of weakness, and felt even worse when T'Challa said, guiltily, "I'm sorry, Erik. That was an instinctive reaction. I didn't mean to scare you." 

"I ain't scared of you!" Erik said hotly. "And even if I did bond with Klaue, so what? I can bond with whoever the fuck I want. You don't own me." 

At that, T'Challa gritted his teeth, pressing his lips together into a thin, angry line. He looked murderous.

Erik thought to himself that Klaue ought to be grateful that he was already dead, and couldn't actually be killed again. 

"'Course I didn't bond with Klaue," Erik said defensively after a pause. "What the fuck, man. That's disgusting. I got standards. I'm very picky, you know."

The gold faded from T'Challa's eyes, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a small smile. "I remember," he said fondly. 

"Stop flirting with me," Erik muttered. "I'm really mad at you..." Erik's voice trailed off, and he shivered as T'Challa brushed his thumb lightly against the base of his collarbone, right over his mating gland. 

"Why are you so angry with me, Erik?" T'Challa murmured. 

"You wouldn't accept my challenge!" Erik exclaimed furiously.

T'Challa looked saddened. "A fight to the death? I could never hurt you, Erik. Do you really want me dead so badly?"

"Yeah," Erik said, half-heartedly. "You're a shitty king. I'd do a much better job."

"Erik, I haven't even been the King for a full day," T'Challa reminded him. "You have no idea what sort of king I would be."

Erik sneered at him. "Nothing good, if you're anything like your father."

"My father should never have left you behind," T'Challa admitted, his voice becoming soft and sad. "He should have brought you home to us, and I have no idea why he did not do so. I swear to you, Erik, if I had known about this earlier..."

Erik tried to swallow past the sudden lump forming in his throat. 

"I am not my father," T'Challa continued. "But I'm willing to atone for his crimes against you. If you really want to kill me..."

T'Challa reached out, gripping Erik's wrists in both of his hands. He guided Erik's hands towards his own neck.

Erik stiffened in surprise.

"Go ahead, cousin," T'Challa said calmly. "I won't resist."

Erik could feel the pulse pounding in T'Challa's throat, right under his trembling hands. 

This would have been so much easier to do if T'Challa had just accepted his damn challenge. Killing an enemy in the heat of battle was completely different from murdering his unresisting cousin in cold blood. 

"Fuck you," Erik muttered, letting his hands fall down to his sides. He could feel the beginning of tears burning in his eyes, and he blinked them away forcefully.  

"What do you really want, Erik?" T'Challa asked gently. 

"I already told you, I want the throne," Erik replied promptly, looking over T'Challa's shoulder at the tall vibranium seat. Unconsciously, his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. 

T'Challa didn't seem angry at Erik's open declaration of his intention to usurp T'Challa's position. "Why?" T'Challa asked.

"I wanna use your tech to help our brothers and sisters all over the world," Erik said, his voice strengthening with conviction. "Y'all been sittin' up here all comfortable for too long. There's about two billion people out there in the world who look just like us, and their lives are a lot harder. Wakanda has the tools to liberate them all."

T'Challa frowned slightly. "By ' _liberate_ ' you mean..."

"Killing the colonizers," Erik said. "Y'all got the best tech in the world. Vibranium weapons. If we arm our people, the colonizers won't stand a chance. We can kill them all! The world's gonna start over, and this time we're gonna be on top. The sun will never set on the Wakandan empire!"

T'Challa was silent, but he looked extremely troubled by Erik's plans. 

"If you stand in my way, I really am gonna kill you," Erik warned, not liking the look on T'Challa's face. "This is bigger than - than whatever's going on between the two of us. I mean it."

"Let me think about this," T'Challa said, pensive. He gazed off into the distance, deep in thought.

There was a long silence, and Erik began to fidget uncomfortably. He hadn't really thought that T'Challa would give this plan any serious  consideration. Erik had expected T'Challa to accept his challenge, and then he'd kill T'Challa, become the King and implement his plan without further opposition. Or T'Challa would kill him, and he wouldn't have to worry about any of that. Either way, Erik hadn't once contemplated the possibility of working together with T'Challa to accomplish his goals. 

What if T'Challa refused to support his plan? Could Erik really bring himself to kill T'Challa, if it came down to that? 

After a long pause, T'Challa finally met Erik's eyes again. His eyes were clear with determination. 

"I have a proposal for you," T'Challa said. "Bond with me." 

Erik's mouth fell open in shock. 

T'Challa continued, "You want the throne? As my bondmate, you would rule by my side, as an equal. I do not completely agree with your plan, but your goals are noble, and I am willing to work with you to help you achieve what you want - to help people all over the world. Wakanda has closed its eyes to the outside world for far too long, and people have suffered because of our inaction. The time has come for change."

"I..." Erik was speechless. 

"If we bond, you can be assured that I'd work towards your goals. My top priority would be keeping my bondmate happy. Please, Erik. We don't have to hurt or kill each other. Just bond with me. I'll cherish you, and protect you with my life," T'Challa said, soft and pleading. 

"This..." Erik paused, sucking in a breath. "You realise what you're proposing? The bond goes beyond marriage. It'll affect our bodies. Our minds. Our entire _lives!_ It's unbreakable,unless one of us dies, or -"

OrunlessErik spent a heat alone, without his bonded alpha. That was the only other way to break an alpha-omega bond. Breaking the bond this way would merely be distressing and uncomfortable for T'Challa, who would have to deal with the knowledge that he wasn't helping his bond mate through his heat. But for Erik, going through heat without his bonded alpha would be excruciating torture. That was why the laws against bonding an unwilling omega were so strict - breaking an alpha-omega bond had overwhelmingly negative effects on the omega partner. 

"I know," T'Challa said calmly. "My offer stands."

"...No," Erik said weakly, shaking his head. "You're crazy. I won't do it. I can't do it." 

"I don't expect your answer right away," T'Challa said quietly. "But please, think about it."

"I've thought about it, and the answer is still  _no_ ," Erik said, with more conviction this time. "You really think that you're the first alpha to offer to bond with me? I've heard it all before. Guys back in Oakland,in the army, and now you. You alphas are all the same.  _'Bond with me, pretty omega. Be my baby mama. I'll take such good care of you. You won't have to work a day in your life.'_ All lies. Just fucking lies. Nobody looks out for me. I gotta look after myself."

"Erik, that's not exactly what I said," T'Challa pointed out. "In fact, that wasn't what I said _at all."_

"Yeah, your reasons were more political," Erik said. "Cause you're the King, I guess. But that's what you _meant_."

T'Challa looked frustrated. "No, Erik. You misunderstand. I'm offering to bond with you for your own peace of mind. My feelings towards you won't change, regardless of whether we are bonded or not. But if we bond, you'd know this for a certainty. I'm offering to do this for your benefit, and putting my life in your hands. I'm not doing this because I want a ' _baby mama',_ forBast's sake. If I really wanted to have children, there's no shortage of women or other omegas who would be willing to provide me with heirs."

"...Now that's something that I haven't heard before," Erik muttered. 

"Think about it, Erik," T'Challa said. "If we bond, I'll do my best to make you happy. I'll never hurt you. I won't even spank you if you're naughty," he teased. 

"Fuck, T'Challa," Erik breathed, his cock hardening at the thought of T'Challa bending him over the throne for a spanking. 

Erik could tell exactly when T'Challa noticed his arousal. A ring of gold flared around his irises, and Erik inhaled sharply at the sight of T'Challa looking predatorily at him, eyes glowing gold. 

_Oh, what the hell_ , Erik thought, and threw all caution to the wind as he leaned forward to kiss his cousin on the lips. 

He sighed at the feeling of T'Challa's muscled body against his, T'Challa's soft lips, surprisingly gentle against his own. 

"Missed you so fucking much," Erik confessed, letting T'Challa steer him backwards until his back was slammed up against the wall, T'Challa's forearm a hot bar across the back of his neck. He cupped T'Challa's face as he deepened the kiss, desperate to run his fingers over every inch of T'Challa's skin. "Been too long. Wanted you so bad, each time I went into heat -" 

"I'm here now, love," T'Challa assured him, wisely refraining from pointing out that it had been Erik's fault for ghosting him in the first place. 

T'Challa's hands went towards the front of Erik's vest, unbuckling the straps. He yanked the vest off, letting it fall to the ground, and then paused, his fingers resting on the fastenings of Erik's pants.

"Erik, are you sure you want this?" 

"Yeah, yeah, _fuck!_ " Erik was so horny that he could already feel the slick starting to gather in his ass. It was almost like being in heat again, except that this time, T'Challa felt comfortably warm against him. He nuzzled into T'Challa's neck, inhaling his scent deeply.

T'Challa yanked Erik's pants down, then, without further warning, spun Erik around unceremoniously to face the wall, warm hands gripping tightly onto Erik's shoulders. 

Erik braced his palms against the wall and pushed his ass back, grinding against T'Challa's still-clothed body. His hard cock jutted out in front of him, precome already gathering at the slit. 

T'Challa's long, clever fingers gripped both sides of his ass, spreading his cheeks apart. 

"You're already so wet," T'Challa said appreciatively.

Erik groaned at the feeling of T'Challa's finger teasing at his hole, not sinking in yet, just spreading his slick around. He spread his legs wider and tilted his head back, instinctively baring his neck for his alpha. 

T'Challa mouthed warm kisses to the soft skin of his neck, pausing only to nibble lightly at the skin over his mating gland - not anywhere hard enough to draw blood and initiate a bond, just the lightest, softest scrape of teeth against skin. 

Erik whimpered, and fought down the reckless urge to say something stupid like, " _bond with me."_ He didn't even have the excuse of being in heat now. But regardless, desire still burned through his body, driven by the primal need to bond himself to a strong, compatible alpha. 

"Hurry up," Erik panted instead, trying to push all thoughts of bonding from his mind. "Been waiting too long already, don't fucking tease."

T'Challa sank his finger in to the knuckle, drawing a moan from Erik and another gush of slick trickling down his inner thigh. He buried his head in his forearm, breath hitching as T'Challa's nimble fingers worked him open, one hand reaching around to stroke his cock to hardness.

"T'Challa," Erik keened, not caring how desperate and needy he sounded. All thoughts of world domination, of killing his cousin and taking the throne were wiped from his mind, replaced by the burning desire to be fucked. 

Erik turned his head back over his shoulder and T'Challa leaned forward to bring their lips together in a messy, bruising kiss. This time it was fierce and rough, accompanied by a particularly deep jab of T'Challa's fingers into him that had Erik moaning into the warmth of T'Challa's mouth. "Ah, fuck!" 

Flushed with desire, Erik writhed desperately against T'Challa, rubbing himself against the alpha's body. T'Challa was still maddeningly clothed, depriving Erik of the intense feeling of skin against skin. But the idea of T'Challa stripping him naked and fucking him while still mostly clothed was  _hot as fuck._

"Want you now," Erik begged, spreading his legs invitingly, alight with nothing else but the most basic, primal instinct to be filled. 

T'Challa pressed a final kiss to the sensitive skin on Erik's neck, licking over the kiss mark once before he moved down to grip Erik's hip tightly, pulling Erik's ass further back so that he was bending over at the waist. Erik could feel the blunt head of T'Challa's hard cock lined up against the cleft of his ass, before T'Challa was pushing in into his slick hole. Erik squirmed a little from the burn of the intrusion, panting as T'Challa slid in inch by inch until he had fully bottomed out, his cock stretching Erik apart.

T'Challa set a brutally fast pace, his hips snapping against Erik's ass with each thrust. Hard and fast, just the way Erik liked it. The throne room filled with the sounds of Erik's breathless, choked-off moans, the slap of skin against skin as T'Challa rutted hard into him. Moans that turned into a high-pitched cry when T'Challa hit him at just the right angle, cock brushing against Erik's prostate. "Oh fuck!"

The next few pounding thrusts against the same spot had Erik practically seeing stars. He cried out, trying to twist away from the feeling that was almost too intense, but was locked in place by T'Challa's arms winding tightly around his body. Erik could feel his orgasm building fast, the pressure building up as his balls tightened.

"'Challa, I'm gonna come -"

Erik came with a cry, cock jerking as his come splattered against the ground in thin white spurts. He clenched mostly involuntarily, tightening around T'Challa's cock, and T'Challa grunted at the sudden tight pressure. His arms tightened around Erik as he gave a few final thrusts, before a sudden wet warmth spread within Erik as T'Challa came in him, filling him up.

Erik relaxed in T'Challa's embrace, letting his sweaty forehead fall against the wall as he tried to catch his breath.

"Erik," T'Challa murmured warmly in his ear as he finally pulled out. His fingers briefly brushed against Erik's skin, wiping away the small trickle of slick and come that had escaped from Erik's hole. 

Erik turned around, leaning into T'Challa's embrace and tilting his head up for a sweet, lingering kiss. Warmth and happiness spread through him as T'Challa pulled him closer towards his chest. He broke away from the kiss, letting his head rest on T'Challa's shoulder.

Erik felt...safe. Happy.

"Ah fuck, T'Challa - just do it," Erik muttered, turning his head slightly to expose the base of his neck. 

Infuriatingly, T'Challa actually pulled away from him. "What?" T'Challa said in surprise. 

"I know you heard me just fine," Erik said crossly. "Just bond with me, okay? Quickly. Before I lose my nerve." 

"Erik, I don't want you to rush into a decision like this," T'Challa said, sounding concerned. "You don't seem certain. And you're shaking." 

"Am not," Erik denied with a scowl. But it was true. He was trembling slightly against T'Challa, fear and anxiety warring within him. 

T'Challa smoothed his hands over Erik's bare back, petting and soothing him, stilling his tremors. "You were so vehemently against bonding with me just a while ago," T'Challa said. "What changed your mind?" 

"I decided that I can't possibly land a better alpha than the King of Wakanda, so why the fuck not," Erik said breezily, aiming for flippancy.

Predictably, T'Challa wasn't impressed. "Be serious, Erik," he chided. 

Erik bit his lip. "What you said earlier," he whispered. "I want that. I want..."

He recalled T'Challa's words from earlier. _"I'll cherish you, and protect you with my life."_

Fuck.

He was so stupid.

Despite everything that he'd been through, all the hurts that had hardened him against the world, a secret, hidden part of him still wanted that.

The heartbreaking feeling of vulnerability welling up in him was almost too much to bear. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and Erik blinked them away, nuzzling into T'Challa's shoulder instead.

"It ain't permanent," Erik said instead, grasping for another, less embarrassing explanation. "We can just try it first. If it doesn't work out, I'll just kill you, break the bond, and do things my way instead."

"Erik..." T'Challa was half-laughing, but his eyes were serious as he nudged Erik's chin, tilting his head up so that Erik could look directly into his eyes. 

"We'll make it work, Erik, I promise. You can trust me," T'Challa murmured.

Erik swallowed past the lump in his throat, blinking back tears. "Okay. Okay, then. I'm gonna hold you to it. If not -"

He wanted to sound threatening, but his voice broke on the last word. T'Challa's warm, sympathetic gaze seemed to be burning into his soul. Tearing his eyes away from T'Challa's, Erik blinked hard again, looking at the wall instead. 

"I understand, Erik. I'll do it, if you're sure," T'Challa said quietly, thumb stroking the base of Erik's neck.

Erik shuddered. His last chance to back out, but suddenly, he found that there was nothing that he wanted more than to be bonded to this man.

This had been what he wanted from the beginning, now that he was finally ready to be honest with himself.

"...Yeah. Yeah. Go on. Do it. I'm sure."

T'Challa's teeth pierced through the mating gland on his neck.

 

THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated.


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